Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Haiti and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Arab on Radar to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crime,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Velvet Underground,
Clear Light,
Bill Wells,
The Last Poets,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Dual Sessions,
Eden Ahbez,
Brothers Johnson,
Freddie Wadling,
the Normal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Susan Cadogan,
The Toasters,
Mark Hollis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Sonics,
The New Christs,
The Victims,
a-ha,
Minnie Riperton,
Main Source,
B.T. Express,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Oneida,
Cameo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Agitation Free,
Jandek,
Loose Ends,
Harry Pussy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Evens,
Masters at Work,
New York Dolls,
The Fuzztones,
The Trojans,
DJ Style,
Intrusion,
Qualms,
Pierre Henry,
Y Pants,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sugar Minott,
Scan 7,
The Golliwogs,
Los Fastidios,
Grey Daturas,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Flag,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Liliput,
Excepter,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Glenn Branca,
Minny Pops,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.